Album Review: Ghost Town Road by Smallpools
Words by Angelina Singer
Splashing into your airwaves is the newest Smallpools album Ghost Town Road – a nostalgic and sparkling glimpse into the post-pandemic performance space. Regardless of how you experienced 2020 and the years beyond, we can all agree that many live spaces and performance centers sadly haven’t been the same since. Since their debut single “Dreaming” in 2013, Smallpools has been putting energetic earworms into speakers in the hopes that some other fellow frustrated artistic souls might find a place to belong in an ever-changing world.
Their latest album, “Ghost Town Road”, is an auditory reflection on what it means to be authentically present-minded while still appreciating the past. With notable collaborations with members from lovelytheband and Third Eye Blind, this is an album you won’t want to sleep on. Without further ado, let’s take a deep dive into what Ghost Town Road is all about.
While you might assume upon first glance that any album with “road” in the title is a country project, that’s obviously not the case here. Smallpools has constructed an inventive alt-rock album – the first in a while that made me excited to review their work. Opening the album is the sprightly “Swayze” – a sonic moment that would live comfortably in a 90s rom-com (both with the obvious hint to Patrick and the overall sound). It’s an ode to new love and the sparks that fly, represented by the bubbly guitar rhythms and tasteful synthesizer.
Next up is “Night Shift” with the opening line “I exist too much so I try to hide” – a very relatable moment for most people that are overstimulated with life. It’s a song about being bored in your job and wanting something different to come around. Despite boredom being the theme, this song is anything but. Careful electric guitar articulations bounce off the lyrics, giving listeners hope for something new to spring out of even the most mundane of lifestyles.
“Fake a Happy Face” is a more chilled-out track, thematically moving from the stagnation of “Night Shift” but with an added hint of gloom. Scratchy distorted vocals contribute to the feeling of being numb to the world despite everyone wanting you to just be happy. Dipping a toe into the angstier emo category, this song is an intriguing diversion from the earlier ones, but with an added sense of continuity that still works perfectly.
The fourth song on the album is “Amelia” – a pretty standard love story in past tense. “Brighter than the streetlights of my cold, dead heart” are lyrics I could see people quoting a lot – a funny and snarky moment in the song. This song might have the catchiest hook so far, as the speaker laments of Amelia being the reason he ruined his life. It’s a great story that hints at some wild events, leaving the reader wanting more information. Tasteful whistling appears after the second verse, before the chorus expands with the bright guitars and duplicated vocals. Is it obsession, or true love? I guess you’ll have to listen to find out. It ends with unintelligible female vocals that are equal parts happy and creepy.
“Motorbike (Wild Ones)” is a great example of a dance-able beat while still telling a great story. While the title makes you think it’s literally about a bike, it’s actually about feeling wild and free in a great relationship that brings you back to life. As always, I love the way the verses are much more minimalistic, leaving room for the choruses to bloom. “Every distant memory now feels so close when I hear that sound” brings the listener into that place where daily troubles cease to exist – a direct thematic contrast of earlier songs like “Night Shift” or “Fake a Happy Face”.
As we get past the middle of the album toward the end, listeners are greeted with songs like “Socio-Empath” and “Make Like a Dream & Die”. The first of these two reminded me a lot of something alt-rock band Waterparks might perform, with the angst-coded lyrics and gritty, electric minimalism in the verses. “I’m a socio-empath but nobody gets that” is the core of the song, which flows interestingly into the next track.
“Make Like a Dream & Die” has a similar style, but it’s much more set into the indie folk realm. It’s an interestingly open, clap-able, stomp-able beat with gang vocals and a disco-esque chorus moment. “Time will be tell you better but you better be careful” is an effective paradox of moving through time and growing but with hesitancy at every life step. Bonus points for the slick guitar and saxophone solos that give listeners a hot second to process the wisdom in the lyrics. It ends with an oddly haunting phone ringing – not totally sure why, but it’s thought-provoking yet frustrating that no one answers it.
Heading to the tail end of the album, listeners are treated to a clever ode to Blockbuster with “Be Kind, Rewind”. With the feeling of a ballad, this one quickly opens to a glittering synth-wave love story with comparing a relationship to watching a movie. “Hey are we out of time? Can we go back to the title screen, say what we mean…” is a great nod to film culture and the way life doesn’t always feel like a movie, but on the off chance it does, it’s a moment you’ll want to pause and stay at for a while.
Ending the album are pop-rock gems “Paperweight” and “Caller ID”. Minus the unfortunate swear of g-damn which may be offensive to some listeners, the overall instrumental sound of “Paperweight” is a contender for being my favorite on the whole album. Tight palm-muted guitars and layered vocals create an atmosphere for the listener to sink into. “Caller ID” blends this same conic texture but with slightly more relaxed vibes. It feels like sitting on a city balcony at night as the sun sets on a balmy, late-summer evening. As a love story for a new generation with more advanced technology, this is a powerful ode to love, loss, and desire in the digital age. What a great finish to an overall beautifully articulated album.
If you haven’t listened to “Ghost Town Road” by Smallpools yet, what are you waiting for? It’s available now, and you can listen to the full album on Spotify.
